


Fallen from Grace

by Fluidfyre



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:05:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluidfyre/pseuds/Fluidfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the sister at the Gallows is called home to the Maker, Sebastian is given the task of taking confessions from mages and templars alike. While he greets it with an open heart, what he learns from their admissions weighs heavy upon him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen from Grace

**Author's Note:**

> **Original kmeme request:** _The circle sister gets sick, and they need a replacement to preach there for a few days and take confession. Sebastian gets picked for this and is all "Fulfiling my duty to the maker and getting to preach to those most in need of hearing his words, it's a dream come true!"_
> 
>  _That is until the confessions start. And it goes quickly from a mage confessing to keeping a book long past it's return date to the archives to templars confessing to raping a make *again* or beating a few mages for fun *again* or other terrible things._
> 
>  _And Sebastian just goes from =D to =I to D=_
> 
>  _And the chantrys made it clear to Seb that he can't give them any penence that gets in the way of their 'holy duty' with any jail time or anything. So he can't really condemn them, and he can't tell anyone._
> 
>  _SO basicaly this longprompt is me wanting Sebastian stewing in impotant helplessness as chantry lip service to forgive bad templars._

"Thank you for coming," the First Enchanter said, walking slowly with his hands clasped behind him. "Sister Daedbot has taken care of the mages and templars in the Gallows for many years without falter. I know she will be missed."

"She has gone to the Maker's side, for she has earned her place through the work," Sebastian replied, nodding slowly. "Her life begins anew in His embrace."

Orsino quietly cleared his throat and nodded, hesitating in the doorway to the small chapel. "Ah, yes. Well, make yourself at home. The good sister occupied the confessional before breakfast and the last meal, to accommodate all of the templars. It would mean a great deal if you were willing to do the same?"

"Of course," Sebastian said, "I will do my best to adhere to it."

"There are many mages who come," Orsino suddenly said. "Many of us live in the Maker's light - though we are ...considered less by many."

"Seek it all the same," Sebastian said and slowly smiled. "For we are all His children."

"Yes," Orsino said under his breath, clasping his hands together once more and glancing back into the tower. "I will leave you to become acquainted with your surroundings. I have no doubt you can contact Meredith if you need anything, but you know where my rooms are."

"Thank you, First Enchanter," Sebastian said, reaching to take the elf's hand. "His blessing upon you."

Orsino nodded once more and swept silently down the hall, head cant in thought.

When Sebastian had sanctified the altar and finished his prayers, he returned to open the doors of the chapel before occupying the confessional. He sat in the small, dark space with a stack of parchment, and was just about to dip his quill when there was a quiet knock, followed by the shuffle of cloth. He tucked the papers away and cleared his throat.

"Through Andraste's flames, we seek to be cleansed," Sebastian leant back and slid open the screen. "So too let your words unburden your soul that you might find your way back into His light."

"Thank you, brother," a man replied, clearing his throat to maintain a whisper. "For coming to hear us, I mean."

"It is my duty to the Maker," Sebastian said, looking down at his hands. "And to my fellow man."

"I have done my best not to watch them," the man started in, his words hurried and quietly trembling. "But the others, it is difficult to not join them. I cannot help but enjoy it, I am just a man."

"We are flawed creatures, but we may yet seek forgiveness," Sebastian softly said. "Who do you watch?"

"The mages, when they bathe," the man replied in a stilted way. "I know it is my duty to watch them, but I know how difficult it is. They have so little privacy, but so many - they are so young, and so beautiful. Their skin is unblemished, they don't know any difficulty. They have everything here..."

"You serve the Maker in your actions, and protect all of Kirkwall from the potential harm that mages might cause."

"Yes, messere, I know," the templar replied, and exhaled heavily. "I have kept my vows, but I still do not feel right about it. I thought it would be easier. Their lips looks so soft. They blush, they know I am looking, and I cannot help what it does to me."

"Do not let this burden you anymore," Sebastian interjected and straightened his posture. "It is a natural desire, and you do right by your admission. Find penance in prayer until sundown, and be released from your sin."

"Yes, messere," the templar said, and the sound of movement shuffled against the wood of the confessional. "Maker's blessing upon you."

"And upon you," Sebastian said with a small smile, still watching his hands as the man left.

* * *

"I don't know how he found a way out, but the moon was full, and he had ale - it was wonderful," the lady mage sighed, slumping back into the bench. "I know we aren't to leave, but I can't believe it was so wholly wrong."

"But you felt compelled to reveal it to the Maker," Sebastian added when the woman paused.

"I did," she replied, and there was a moment before she spoke softly. "I don't want anything to happen to him. I just want to see him again."

"You do right by him admitting that you broke the rules," Sebastian replied, before softly chiding, "In repentance and admission the errors of our mortal ways shall be mended, and Andraste will welcome us into Her house."

"Right," the mage hurriedly said, and she fell silent as nearby voices rose in the hall. She softly whimpered, "Brother, they won't know, will they? You can't tell them? I fear what they will do."

"What has transpired goes but before the Maker," Sebastian said, thumbing through the trim of beads on his robes. "What work do you do here?"

"Work?" the woman asked, before saying, "I make parchment for the students. I learnt as a child."

"Then do your penance through your work - and donate this week's supply to the Chantry and her orphans."

"Yes, of course, messere," the mage hurriedly said, a frantic edge in her voice. She leaned against the screen, "Thank you for protecting us."

"May the Maker watch of you," Sebastian replied, though the mage was already gone. He could hear her steps hurry away, and the men in the chapel stopped talking.

* * *

"I - I think she was crying, but I didn't care," the templar in the confessional heatedly whispered. "Her lips were so warm, so firm, and I just... it was too much. It was like everything I'd held back was in it, her hair slipping in my fingers..."

Sebastian swallowed thickly, staring at his whitened knuckles, fingers laced tightly together.

"I know some of the others go to the Rose instead," the man murmured, his voice rich and deep. "Somehow it feels worse. Those are real women, working women - women who've had more men than I can count. But these... the young mages we bring in -"

"It is against their will," Sebastian quietly said. "And improper to debase them so."

"I know, messere," the templar replied, swallowing his words. "Somehow I feel it is better, they aren't human like us. And I let her see her family, that must count for something. I kept my word - I always do. I wouldn't just... that would be wrong."

"There is little justification for raping a young woman," Sebastian's rich brogue cut in as he hissed a reply. "You should be clapped in chains."

"I... what?"

Sebastian glanced towards the ceiling, inhaling deeply and feeling his cheeks burn. There was the throb of his pulse in his temples, a fire lighting his quick temper. He closed his eyes.

"Please, messere," the templar slowly said, a heavy sigh filling the silence.

There was a tight twist in Sebastian's throat, and his palms were hot. He could hear Mother Maggie's words echo in his thoughts - that he was present in the gallows to absolve the templars of their sins and provide solace to the mages. That he was not the city guard - he was not the judge. That was the Maker's work. They came to him to cleanse their conscience, and it was his place to offer penance.

But was it justice?

"You will spend the next day in prayer, and donate this month's salary to the widow's fund at the Chantry," Sebastian carefully said, staring in his lap to toy with the sash of his robes. It was his focus. The man was oblivious to the fire in his words.

"Thank you, brother," the templar replied, stammering a bit. "I... yes. Of course, serah."

"May the Maker watch over you," Sebastian quietly said as he heard the man rise to leave.

* * *

Sebastian paced outside the door, his arms crossed and his eyes downcast. When the door finally opened, he was met with Mother Maggie.

"Ah, Sebastian," the older woman said, clasping her hands together over her abdomen. "A pleasure as always. How is your work going at the Circle?"

"That is what I have come calling about. Pardon my brusqueness, but I was hoping to speak with her Grace." Sebastian inclined his head, before righting his posture.

"She is unavailable at this time," Mother Maggie replied, and motioned down the hall of the rectory. "But I would not be serving the Maker if I did not do my best to help you. What troubles you?"

Sebastian followed her down to where a small den was at the end of the hall, and knelt alongside her beneath a golden statue of Andraste. The ceiling overhead was arched to accommodate the centrepiece. He took the single taper burning at the bride's feet and lit the other candles to afford them more light.

"I find myself wanting to extend beyond my station in the work at the Gallows," Sebastian slowly said. Exhaling, he rested his hands on his knees and looked up at Andraste. "Though many of the resident mages and templars are good people who have only faltered, I am finding an increasing number only too eager to take advantage of their charges."

"I see," the mother simply said.

Sebastian looked at his hands upon his knees. "I do not feel I am a proper shepherd by ignoring the please of the suffering."

"There are mages who have come forward?"

"No, no none of them speak of it," Sebastian said furrowed his brow. "It is the templars. They speak of many ... debasing and degrading acts that they commit - and not merely with the ladies of the Blooming Rose. They use the mages - they force them to do things. How can I not act?"

"You do a disservice to your vows, Sebastian," Mother Maggie coldly said. "Betraying the trust they have placed in you by admitting their sins openly and without reservation."

"I am sorry, messere, but I do not feel right letting it continue-"

"They seek His light, Sebastian. They are instruments of His will, and of the will of the Chantry. I said as much when you agreed to take on this commission. Her grace will have a new reverend mother chosen for the Gallows in due time." Mother Maggie said, and she slowly rose, clasping her hands together at her waist as she looked down upon Sebastian. "They are mortal, as we all are. They have their faults, and every day they deal with atrocities and horrors so the common man need not bear them. You will give them absolution, as is your charge."

"Yes, madam," Sebastian's voice quietly cracked as he looked down at the candles.

"That's a good lad," she replied, age and fatigue clung to her words. She touched his brow. "It is for the greater good, you know this as well as I. All things are known to the Maker, and He shall judge their lies. But those who repent, they shall find peace through their admissions - and we shall grant it, that they find their way to His side."

Sebastian stayed knelt in the alcove, alone with his thoughts as the clack of the mother's shoes led away down the hall.

* * *

Hawke strode ahead of them, motioning vividly as she spoke with Varric. The dwarf laughed and shook his head, dipping closer to add his own quip to her commentary. She stumbled and laughed in reply, smacking his shoulder. Sebastian's eyes drew from the sarcastic pair of rogues to the mage he walked beside.

"You seem very angry," he finally said.

Anders almost scoffed, scarce glancing at Sebastian as he watched Hawke. "And here I thought the Chantry was against mind-reading."

Hawke raised her hand and directed them into a dark alcove. She crouched in the shadows and spoke, "Varric and I will go in. I'd prefer if you both wait here, I'm not sure you have... the finesse needed."

"Is that wise?" Anders furrowed his brow.

"I've more experience with this sort of... activity than you may suspect, serah," Sebastian added. Hawke rolled her eyes. "In my past -"

"Yes, well we both know how out of practise you are at having fun." Hawke stood up and stretched her shoulders back. "Watch the street for us?"

"Of course," Anders readily replied, and the mage nodded. "Just don't get yourself hurt."

"Always so concerned," Hawke said, her eyes sparkling, and she patted Varric's shoulder. The pair of rogues disappeared back into the street and soon had slipped into the warehouse.

Sebastian squatted on his haunches in the alcove, watching where they had gone as Anders paced in the confined space. His eyes turned to the sky as a squabble broke out amongst a group of gulls, their screeches echoing down into the narrow streets. The mage seemed oblivious.

"Did something happen to you in the Circle?" Sebastian asked, before clearing his throat and more quietly saying, "I understand there were problems in Ferelden..."

"Are you saying a mage can only be unhappy in the Circle if demons were involved?" Anders countered as he stopped pacing. He crossed his arms.

Sebastian slowly stood, sliding up against the wall as he raised his hands, "No, that was not my intent. I am aware of... the troubles many mages face within the Circle."

"Are you now?" Anders flatly said. He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly to temper himself. "I find that quite hard to believe. A noble, a chantry boy - are you telling me your life hasn't been a sheltered one of privilege?"

"I had my time before I was given to the Chantry," Sebastian said, and before he could continue Anders cut him off.

"Yes, because I'm certain it is so similar!" Anders quietly spat. "I'd like to see you live a year under the templar's gaze. Or a month in solitary confinement. Nevermind everything else that goes unsaid within their ranks. There is no way you can understand what it is like - we are stripped of our humanity. And for what? What do you gain by subjugating us?"

"Safety," Sebastian offered, crossing his arms.

"Safety," Anders quietly repeated, meeting the man's gaze. "I suppose the cost of peace of mind can never be too high, mm?"

"I did not mean to suggest such, Anders, I have -"

"I do not want your pity or your self-righteous shoulder to lean upon," Anders cut him off again. Shaking his head, he put his hands on his hips. "Bloody fine sense of humour, Hawke. I'll be there, across the street, if she needs me."

* * *

"Is it true you know the Champion?"

"Who I am is of little consequence," Sebastian tactfully replied. He closed his eyes. The evening had been quiet, and he was about to retire when the templar had arrived. "This time is about you, ser."

"Aye, of course," the man thickly replied, clearing his throat. He spoke in a whisper again, "There is the mage she protects - the man, blond. Everyone knows he is a mage, but he remains free because of her."

Sebastian bit his tongue in his mouth, letting the pain soak up before he said, "What of this man and yourself?"

"Man," the templar quietly huffed, and a sigh followed. "He is a mage. He is no man. He's from Ferelden, right? I used to serve there - before everything fell apart during the Blight. He used to be in solitary - tried to escape more times than we could count.

"He wasn't always alone, really. He didn't get to see any of the mages, at least. I was assigned to him for the better half of a year - he was allowed books. They kept the bad mages in the basement of the tower - the tower in Ferelden has cells down there, you see. Not cells everywhere like here." The man chuckled.

"We make do with what resources we are given," Sebastian quietly said, looking at his hands in the low light. He paled with the nausea that crept through his limbs and left him disconnected.

"Before that, we'd caught him with another mage - a man a few years older than him." The templar almost laughed once. "Can't deny, I didn't stop them at first. Mages are a lot friskier in Ferelden, you know. Passionate, trapped... there was always something to see. The man tried to stop us when we dragged his friend down there."

Silence hung between them a few moments, and gradually Sebastian cleared his throat and licked over dry lips.

"Seeing him made me want it all over again," the templar's voice trembled quietly. "I thought I had left it behind, I had been doing well here. But he has the audacity to come to the Gallows in the shadow of the Champion."

"What do you wish from him, son?" Sebastian asked before he could think. It was ingrained him, drawing the confessions from his flock - even as the heat rose on his cheeks. This was not some faceless mage, not some weeping girl, but... He closed his eyes.

"He would have to do things for the books," the templar said, words stilted. He half laughed in some form of disbelief. "We wouldn't give him anything without getting something in return. By that time, the Knight-Commander was beyond caring. The mage had caused too much trouble - wasted too much of our time with his escapes.

"To think of his hands again, of his lips," the templar said, and there was a pregnant pause.

"Have you acted upon your impulses once more?" The small bit of parchment - when had he grabbed that - in Sebastian's fingers began to fray to into downy flakes.

"Not...not with anyone else, messere," the templar struggled to speak. "Just with myself. I know it is a sin, but somehow I feel better keeping to my own thoughts, my own hands, my own body... none within the Gallows would... I - please forgive me. I know I should not think such things; I strive to live in His light. I am but a man, and I yearn for the pleasures he gave me - I cannot help it when I see him!"

"You must find a better way to be rid of these thoughts," Sebastian said. When he closed his eyes, the image of Anders on his knees, begging, suckling, stroking and pleading flickered amidst his penitent advice. "You have duties in the Gallows, training to complete, yes?"

"Yes, messere," the templar inhaled as he spoke. "We must keep in shape and practise our abilities, should troubles with the mages arise."

Sebastian's voice was gravelly as he knotted his fingers together, brow knit as he spoke, "Have you sought reconciliation for the acts you committed in the Ferelden Circle?"

"Yes, messere," the man shifted in the confessional. "Many years ago, I did. I thought it was behind me."

"You must learn to better rebuke the temptations of the flesh," Sebastian said, staring blankly at his hands. "A penance of prayer and coin, I wish you to work in the chapel for as long as you have lusted over this mage."

"He's an apostate," the templar countered. "A maleficar, no doubt. He is not proper anymore, ser."

"That may be, but you came to seek absolution for your desires," Sebastian's voice hardened as he spoke. "If you wish to find your way back into Andraste's blessed grace, you must truly wish and strive to free yourself of these base wants."

There came no reply, and Sebastian heard the latch on the door turning.

"May He forgive us all for the transgressions we commit against his children," Sebastian whispered as the templar left.

* * *

Hawke swaggered through the door with a tray of whiskey, and bowed as Isabela, Varric and Merrill applauded. She laid them out on the table, only to be followed by one of the tavern wenches carrying two pitchers of the vile drink. How she was still walking was something of a wonder to Sebastian, given the many empty flagons that the server collected before disappearing back out the door.

Varric snagged a lute from along the wall, and laughed as Hawke teetered into his lap. The rogue wrapped an arm around his neck and whispered in his ear. The dwarf nodded and his expression grew solemn before he began to play. Soon enough each was singing a bawdy tale in rounds that left the rest of the table splitting their sides.

At the far end of the table, Anders slouched back in his chair, tearing at a loaf of bread to slowly eat. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a haunted quality more present than ever in his eyes. Sebastian sat beside him, separated from the revelry.

As much as Anders watched Hawke, Sebastian found himself staring at the mage. The pucker of his lips as he plucked the ripped bread from his fingertips. The creases around his eyes, and old smile lines around his mouth. Long fingers. He would have made a fine archer, were he not the adept healer he was.

"Do you want something, Sebastian?" Anders asked, scarce batting a lash as Hawke discarded a portion of her armour. She was left just in the thin linen of her undershirt and leather britches.

"Do you love her?"

Choking on the bread in his throat, Anders sat up more and swallowed with some difficulty. "Wh-what?"

Sebastian looked down the table, watching as Hawke slouched into Varric's arm, her heel up on the table. She was laughing - Hawke was always laughing, an infectious delight that brought a wistful smile to his lips. "Marian is an easy person to love... I think most of us cannot escape feeling something for her."

Anders furrowed his brow, clearing his throat again and knocking a fist against his chest. His voice croaked as he said, "It doesn't matter much how I feel."

"Of course it matters."

"No, it doesn't," Anders chuckled, motioning down the table. "Are you blind?"

Sebastian looked to where Hawke ran her hand down Varric's defined jaw, drawing the dwarf into her lips for a lingering kiss. Isabela gave a small clap, and Hawke laughed as Varric tilted his mouth to her ear to whisper some delight.

"Oh..." Sebastian murmured, a light blush on his cheeks.

"You really are an oblivious chantry boy," Anders said and shook his head, reaching for a glass of ale.

Sebastian watched, lips pressed in a line before he asked, "I was under the impression Justice didn't like when you drank."

Anders looked at him over the glass. "Yes, he also doesn't like mages being oppressed, but that's still happening, isn't it?"

"It is not oppression," Sebastian said, though his words lost their steam. "They seek to train you to protect yourselves and everyone else from you."

"And to think, I was having a halfway good day," Anders sighed and smacked his lips, putting down the glass. "Alright. Get it out."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The sermon," Anders said. "Isn't that what you were leading into?"

"No," Sebastian said and glanced at Hawke once more. Her fingers were in Varric's chest hair, and the dwarf's lips were in her neck. He licked his lips. "I will not proselytise where it is unwanted."

"That has to be a first," Anders murmured, and took up the ale to drink the rest. He looked down in his glass as Varric threw Hawke over his shoulder. The rest of their friends were laughing as Hawke protested, hanging over the back of Varric's chair. Anders could have been miles away.

As Hawke escaped back into a chair alongside Varric, Sebastian said, "Life as a mage cannot have been easy - particularly in the Circle." Anders raised his brow and slid his empty glass across the table as he looked at the prince. "I am sorry for what harm my brethren may have caused you or your kin - or your companions. An act begun with good intentions does not always end with them as well."

Anders narrowed his eyes and asked, "Are you feeling alright, your highness?"

"Perhaps not," Sebastian chuckled. "Perhaps that is a good thing, though."


End file.
